


A Footnote

by babel



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babel/pseuds/babel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two pilots, an engineer, and a warp engine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Footnote

Lieutenant Tucker lives in a tiny room where everything folds or slides out of the wall, including the "table" and "chair" that constitute the dining area. Really, they're just two slabs that come out of the wall when you push the blue buttons that sit over their slots, but he's hears that you can eat off the higher slab and sit on the lower slab, so the words table and chair fit them well enough. He doesn't eat in his room much, anyway. When he's not working or sleeping, he's at the 602 club.

"How about Ginger? That'd be a nice name for a little girl with strawberry blonde hair."

Ruby just smiles and sets his meal on the table. To be honest, she's not the prettiest girl he's ever seen or anything. She's just got an aura about her. She's sweet and tough and independent. Maybe a little too independent, because Trip has been guessing what name she's got picked out for her future children for months, and she hasn't married him yet.

He calls after her as she makes her way to the bar, "How 'bout Faith, because that's what I've got for you, Ruby." "More like distant hope, Lieutenant," she says back, just loud enough for him and a few guys at the bar to hear.

"Distant Hope? That'll get you beat up on the playground." With the NX-Alpha's flight looming on the horizon, he's going to have to eat fast, then high tail it back to the engineering station. Ah, the life of an engineer. It's the life that he's always wanted and the job that he's always wanted.

Hell, it keeps him so busy—he often jokes when he calls his sister back home—that he barely even notices how miserable it all is.

Further down the bar, the pilots are celebrating A.G. Robinson's assignment to fly the NX-Alpha. Tucker used to think that he had to settle for engineer because he wasn't a good enough pilot. He's since learned that engineers are there to do all the work and take the blame when something goes wrong. Pilots are just there to take all the credit. Robinson is probably the worst example of a pilot, in Tucker's mind. Sure, he can fly. But the man wouldn't admit pilot error if he ran his ship into the side of the moon on his way to Jupiter. No, it was always the engine's fault. It's always the _engineer's_ fault.

Not that Tucker takes his job personally or anything.

Ruby walks out from behind the counter with a drink, and Tucker follows her with his eyes. Ah, another pilot. Jonathan Nepotism Archer, who is probably (is she _flirting_ with him?) not as cheerful as the others. His dad built the engine, and he's an obsessively competitive, anal retentive pilot who is rumored to actually be an android built in his father's image. Tucker's crossed the guy's path more than once, but he's pretty sure Archer's never noticed him. Archer is always headed somewhere else, with his mind stationed a few feet above him.

Tucker stuffs a handful of fries in his mouth, and he leaves. On the way out, he takes a huge diversion to the left of the pilots milling around the bar.

* * *

Tucker does not get any sleep before the NX-Alpha's launch. Neither does anyone he worked with. The superiors seem well rested enough, though. Robinson goes up there, doesn't abort when he's told to, and comes back in an escape pod with the NX-Alpha floating around in pieces out in space.

And, of course, the Vulcans are lurking around the Engineering Station looking at them with those constantly piercing eyes under those constantly skeptical eyebrows. Once Robinson is back, Tucker plants himself within hearing range. Robinson's joking, of course. Of _course_. Archer doesn't seem incredibly amused. That's the good thing about Archer. He cares about the engine as much as an engineer. He doesn't think of it as the vehicle for his glory.

Tucker is able to listen in silence, albeit with his hand wrapped tight around a guardrail, until the Vulcan opens his mouth and "Your engine design is obviously unsound" comes out.

He flies down the stairs to the spot below were Forrest, two Vulcans, Archer, and Robinson are discussing the NX-Alpha. "There's nothing wrong with that engine."

Forrest looks like he wants to pick Robinson up and throw him at Tucker, but he just says, "You have something to add, Lieutenant...?"

"Tucker, sir. I'm on Captain Jeffries' engineering team." Tucker's eyes shift to Archer for a moment. Archer's staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. "We've never pumped this much anti-matter though the injectors before. It's going to take us a little time to get the intermix right."

"That's precisely the point," the Vulcan says, looking down his nose. "Your program is moving too quickly."

Oh no, Mr. Girly Tunic, you are not going to twist Lieutenant Tucker's words into agreeable ones.

"Just because it took you ten years to crack warp two doesn't mean it'll take us that long," Tucker snipes back. The vaguest hint of a smile tugs at Archer's features.

Tucker's feeling pretty satisfied with himself until he realizes that Commodore Forrest just snapped "Lieutenant!" at him.

"Sorry, sir," Tucker says in his most apologetic tone, and leaves them to their bureaucracy.

Whatever they're saying over there, Tucker is getting the feeling that it's not going to be good for the NX project. He takes a deep breath. No. Whatever happens, he's not going to let Robinson blame the engine for this one. She just needs a few tweaks. He turns on one of the computers and looks at the telemetry again.

A moment later, someone's already bothering him. "Lieutenant."

Tucker glances at the clock in the corner of the screen. Oh. It's been twenty, maybe thirty minutes. "I was just going over the, uh—" Tucker sees that it's Archer, and he shuts up.

"What you said over there." Archer's standing stiffly enough to make those rumors of his android nature more believable. He clears his throat. "I wanted to thank you. It might help keep this program going."

Tucker snorts. "Right. Forrest seemed thrilled with me for insulting his pointy-eared best friends over there."

Archer smiles that same strange little smile he had on his face before. Tucker suspects it's supposed to be friendly. It's probably a good thing for Archer that he's so good looking, or he wouldn't have any kind of charm at all. And charm counts for a lot with Starfleet.

"I was wondering," Archer begins slowly. "They took A.G. off for questioning and, well, if I stay here I think I might go crazy. So, I'm headed to the 602, and I wanted to ask if you'd come with me."

Well. Tucker wasn't expecting that. He looks back at the computer screen for a moment, then back to Archer. "Sounds good." Staring at the telemetry isn't doing anything for him anymore. Maybe if he can get inside the mind of the son of the engine's creator... "Sounds great, actually. They don't need me here anyway, and I could use a drink."

"Yes. Drinks. Definitely drinks," Archer says seriously, with his forehead crinkled. Tucker just laughs.

* * *

By the end of their drinks at the 602, a few things are clear.

One: That the Forrest is so far up the Vulcan's asses at this point, that he'd do whatever they told him. Including, apparently, putting the space program on hold to build a new engine when the NX was just fine.

Two: That Robinson is the gigantic asshole of a pilot that Tucker had suspected him of being.

Three: That Robinson and Archer are both pretty tough sons of bitches who would probably have fought until they destroyed the entire 602 if Ruby hadn't shouted at Tucker to stop them.

Whatever the case, Ruby had guilted Tucker into going with Archer to a doctor to get looked at. The verdict is that Archer has two bruised ribs and a cracked molar. Now, they are walking outside together, not anywhere in particular, but Archer looks bad enough that Tucker isn't just going to bolt.

"I told him to abort," Archer says, breaking the silence. "The Vulcans and Forrest were right there when I told him to abort. And he didn't. How is that not pilot error?"

"Couldn't tell you," Tucker answers. His gaze is fixed on the ground beneath them and, occasionally Archer's foot will step into his view, then slide out again.

"You think it's the intermix," he says, almost accusingly.

"What they don't seem to understand is that it's all trial and error. Now, I'm not a Vulcan historian, but I'll bet you right here that the Vulcans didn't get everything right the first time. It don't matter how long you think about it, if you don't _see_ it working, it doesn't work yet." Tucker flicks his eyes up for a moment, just long enough to catch Archer's expression. The big red mark developing across the bridge of his nose makes him look angry. Why Tucker cares whether or not he's pissing Archer off is beyond him. The Tuckers have a long tradition of saying whatever comes to mind as soon as it gets there. "It's like they want to tear the house down to fix a leak in the pipe. It doesn't make any sense."

Archer's tone is slow and grim. "It makes sense. They don't want us to succeed."

Tucker shrugs with one shoulder. "I want to say you're wrong, but hell, I don't think you are."

"Do you know how to fix the problem?"

"I don't know." Tucker let out a long breath. "I have an idea. I mean, the intermix formula isn't that off, or Robinson's little accident would've been a lot worse. I mean, I can show you, but with the program out the—"

Archer stops walking abruptly. "Show me."

Tucker has to screech to a stop and track back. "Why?"

"Think about it." Archer's eyes are wide. "If you tell Forrest, and I tell Forrest, and A.G. tells Forrest that it's going to work, then _maybe_ we can change his mind."

Tucker can't help but smirk. "You're what they call an optimist, aren't you?"

"No," Archer answers firmly. "But it's my father's engine. If he couldn't get out there, his engine should." He puts his hands on Tucker's shoulders and looks at him with fixed, steady eyes. "Will you help me?"

"Hell, if you're going to ask me like that." He pats Archer's forearm. "Let's get to work."

* * *

They'd gone over the telemetry all night until Tucker finally got Archer to understand what was wrong with the intermix formula. In the morning, Archer went to talk to Robinson about the intermix issue, and half an hour later he comes back with Robinson in tow to go over their plans for a launch of the NX-Beta.

"Woah, woah, woah. Who said anything about a launch. Are you two crazy?"

Robinson and Archer both grin widely, and Tucker just stares at them.

"Come on," Robinson says. "It's the only way we'll prove to the Vulcans it'll work."

"We're not entirely sure that it _does_ work." Tucker isn't totally against the idea, but... "You're really going along with this, Archer?"

Archer shrugs. "A.G.'s right, Trip."

"Yep, you're crazy." Tucker laughs, more out of shock than mirth.

"We're here because you're the one who helped us," Archer says. His eyes are wide again, like they were last night. Tucker is starting to suspect that it's Archer's version of determination with a pinch of child-like glee. "You're probably the only one around here who cares about this project as much as I do. I wouldn't want anyone else watching my back."

Robinson is behind Archer rolling his eyes at their tender moment. Tucker takes a deep breath. They're right. He doesn't want to admit it, but they're right. It isn't like Tucker was adverse to stepping outside the lines, but this is his life here. He isn't exactly eager to get kicked out of Starfleet before he's even done anything.

But how is he going to be able to _do_ anything while the Vulcans have them on a leash?

"All right," Tucker says, nodding slowly. "All right, but you better not get yourselves incinerated, or I'll kick both your asses."

Archer smiles probably the biggest smile Tucker has ever seen. It doesn't just extend from one corner of his mouth to the other, but it encompasses his whole body.

And, yeah, Tucker's already glad he's agreed to help out.

* * *

"You're not coming with us," Archer says, not looking Tucker in the eye as he gathers his space suit.

"I'm not... What could happen if—"

"You'll be a lot more help down here."

Tucker stares at the side of Archer's head for a long moment, then he turns on a heel and heads over to his control station. It doesn't take much to fix things so that he can be more helpful from the ground, but. Well. He doesn't trust two pilots with antimatter, that's all there is to it.

By the time Tucker's finished, Archer's just about all the way into that ugly, awkward suit. "I've routed the intermix controls to the engineering station. If it becomes unstable, you'll be able to control it manually."

"Thanks."

Tucker tries to stop himself, but he can't help it. "If I came along, I could monitor the antimatter flow."

Archer heaves a big sigh and heads toward the NX-Beta with his helmet under his arm. "I'll keep an eye on it."

"You're gonna have your hands full," Tucker says, chasing after him. Archer takes big, long strides, and Tucker has to move fast to keep up.

"We need you down here. Don't worry, you'll get out there someday." Archer stopps at the base of the steps that lead into the NX-Beta. He looks Tucker straight in the eye. "If I had my own ship, I'd sign you up in a second."

Generally, Tucker would take it as an empty promise, but there's something so earnest in Archer's eyes that...

Yeah, right. Archer is just trying to get Tucker off his back. Still, Tucker says, "I'm gonna hold you to that," and he grins.

Archer grabs Tucker's hand and gives it a hard shake. "Thanks Trip."

Tucker just nods, trying to ignore the throbbing in his hand that Archer's firm grip afforded him. He watches Archer climb up into the NX-Beta. Off to make some history, leaving Tucker to be the footnote. Oh well.

With everything rerouted, the sensors have no clue that the NX-Beta is gone until they pop up on New Berlin's screen, according to plan. Things are going pretty smoothly until they hit 2.2, again. There are fluctuations in the intermix and the warp field is quickly destabilizing. Tucker curses to himself. If he was _there_ he could be helping. But, no, the NX-Beta is going to go the way of the NX-Alpha, and this time the pilots might not be so damn lucky.

Tucker is furiously working at his computer—maybe there isn't much he can do, but there might be something—when security shows up. A huge guy grabs Tucker, growling, "Come with us, Lieutenant."

There must be a bucket load of adrenaline pumping through him, because with one powerful jerk, he frees himself from the much larger man's grip. "NX-Beta," he shouts into his headset. "Do you read?"

The silence is horrible, and each flicker of static is worse for the hope it gives. Tucker holds up his hands to steady the security officers. They watch him with somewhat confused anticipation.

Finally. _Finally_ , Archer's voice crackles through, "NX-Beta to Commodore Forrest. You might want to check your sensors. You'll see we're holding steady at 2.5."

Tucker slaps his hands together with one last burst of that extra energy before the security guard takes his arm again and leads him out of the engineering station.

* * *

Tucker drops into his bed after getting back from first getting chewed out by Forrest, then by Jefferies.

A moment later, the door chime sounds. Or, not a moment, Tucker realizes as he checks his clock. It's actually been the better part of an hour. He must have been more tired than he thought.

The door chime impatiently sounds again.

"Keep your shirt on," Tucker mutters as he drags himself to his feet. He wanders to the door and opens it.

And there's Archer, with a grin on his face that manages not to be disgustingly smug even though he's a pilot. Something new happens every day. He raises the bottle of whisky he's holding in his hand. "I felt like celebrating," he says, simply.

"Good to see you're not in jail." Tucker recedes back into the room, allowing Archer to enter, then he presses that blue button that makes his dining table slide out of the wall.

Archer sets the bottle down. "First, I want to apologize for getting you involved. I've asked that you not be punished too severely considering Robinson and I kind of bullied you into it." Archer glances at the sheets half on and half hanging off of the bed. "And secondly, for apparently waking you up."

"Apologize?" Tucker laughs as he pulls down a couple of glasses from the counter over the sink. "If you're going to apologize for something, you should apologize for not taking me with you."

"Well, I'm not apologizing for that."

"Figures." Tucker sets the glasses down on the table and watches as Archer pours them both a drink. Tucker raises one of the filled glasses. "To the NX-Beta."

Archer clinks his glass against Tucker, and they both drink a little down. Tucker raises his eyebrows in approval. It's good stuff. Archer reaches over, and clinks Tucker's glass again. "And, to new friendships."

Tucker nods. "I can drink to that." So, he does. A nice long drink.

"You know," Archer begins as he takes Tuckers glass and his own, setting them down. "I'd noticed you before."

"Really?"

"You do good work. It'd be hard not to notice."

Tucker shrugs. "Everybody notices you, so I guess that wouldn't make me special if I said the same thing back, would it?"

Archer just smiles. Tucker notices, suddenly, how close Archer is standing to him. The realization makes his stomach jump. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

"A.G. says I should take more risks, I shouldn't play things so much by the book."

"Well, hijacking a space craft is certainly a start," Tucker says.

"It's a start," Archer says. He's still smiling that little smile when he leans toward Tucker. "But I have some other risks I want to take tonight."

"What're you—"

Archer's mouth is on Tucker's, so he can't finish his sentence. Tucker's eyes flutter shut, and he stands still, letting Archer kiss him. When Archer pulls away again, Tucker wets his lips and slowly opens his eyes.

"So, do you mind if I stay over tonight?" Archer asks, his eyes twinkling with some kind of humor that's absolutely going over Tucker's head at the moment.

"You're... kidding, right?" Tucker asks.

Archer shakes his head. "Unless you want to go back to the 602 and stare at Ruby some more."

Tucker looks down at the little dining table that slides out of the wall, and at the two glasses and the bottle sitting on it. He thinks about the way everything slides into the walls around here, and in a second it was like they were never there at all. Then, he thinks of calling his sister, and how he's always joking, but not really joking, about how miserable he is.

Then, he looks at Archer, and he thinks about kissing him again.

"Sure," Tucker says. "You can stay."


End file.
